As he strode down the corridor, Sir Zenith took a deep breath. The cold, metallic air was far from refreshing, but he hoped letting it cycle through his systems might alleviate the strange tightness in his chest.
Unfortunately, it had no effect. Zenith tried not to sigh. Well, it was fine. Uncomfortable as the feeling might be, it didn't stop him from fulfilling his tasks. And he was certain it would go away once he spent a few hours in sleep mode.
Hence why he was heading to his quarters now. He had spent the morning training, at first with Theo and later practicing sword forms on his own, but Meg had suggested he take a break. Strictly speaking, he didn't need to enter sleep mode so soon, but he supposed it wouldn't hurt.
Especially since the last time he had gone into sleep mode, he hadn't recovered as much energy as he would have liked. The entire time, strange voices had echoed inside his head...no, a single voice. One he recognized deep down, even if he hadn't been able to make out any words.
And not only his chest, but his entire body had felt on edge these past few days. Training helped take his mind off it, but today hadn't gone as successfully as he hoped. Theo had seemed distracted as well; not as much as Ryan yesterday, but Zenith didn't miss the unsteady waver to his Levia. When he had tried to ask, though, Theo had told him not to worry.
It was fine, he told himself. The battle was over. All was calm aboard the craft. There were no enemies....
'No, there are.' Grinding his teeth, Zenith clenched his hand into a fist. He knew it was wrong to think this way, but he couldn't help it. Mirage and Victor undoubtedly intended to betray the crew at some point. As long as they were aboard, he couldn't let himself relax.
But his liege had extended them her trust. Who was he to question her?
His chest tightened until every breath stabbed like a knife. Enough! Hadn't he told himself it was no use thinking about such things? Quickly, he needed to get to his room and rest already.
As he picked up his pace, he heard voices drifting down the corridor. He froze in place when he recognized them.
" – if it's too heavy for you, I can – "
"Hmph, what do you think I am? I can manage just fine."
"Of course. My apologies."
The source of the voices rounded the corner – a black-haired human and a demon with scarlet horns, both carrying large baskets. And they were heading right toward Zenith.
What should do? In the narrow corridor, they wouldn't be able to pass at the same time. It was probably best if he stepped aside to give them room, but he couldn't make his legs move.
This entire time, he had done his best to avoid these two. Now, he would have no choice but to let them come close enough to touch.
They noticed him too, of course. Victor stopped mid-step, but Mirage kept marching forward.
Closer and closer he came, yet Zenith stayed frozen in place. What was wrong with him?
Mirage finally stopped less than a meter from Zenith. Tilting his head, he fixed Zenith with annoyed golden eyes. "Excuse us, you're blocking the way."
'Don't talk to me.' He clenched his fists tighter, armor creaking, but his legs still refused to move. It was so simple. Just take a couple of steps to the side.
So why couldn't he? Was it because, even in such a small and ridiculous way, he didn't want to give in to these two?
"Hello?" Mirage leaned forward, his nose almost bumping Zenith's chest. "Are you listening? Or have you become a statue? A rather hideous decoration, I must say, and in quite an inconvenient location."
As he prattled nonsense, Zenith's nerves wound tighter. And it did not help when Victor started approaching. Though the heavily-laden basket hid most of his face, Zenith felt every inch of his intense gaze.
"We're taking these to Nevy," Victor said. "We don't want to keep her waiting."
'Taking these to Nevy. Don't want to keep her waiting.' He spoke of her so casually, like they were already friends. Unable to help it, Zenith's fists began to tremble.
"He's not listening," Mirage sneered. "What do you think is wrong with him? Is he broken, perhaps?"
And this duplicitous schemer of a demon had the nerve to stand around making sarcastic comments as if he actually belonged here. But he did, because Prince Darian had decided so.
So all Zenith needed to do was step aside and apologize for blocking the way. It was only polite. He would do it for anyone else.
At long last, he found the strength to move. But rather than get out of the way, he took a firm step forward. And when he opened his mouth, it wasn't an apology that came out.
"What exactly are you planning?"
Mirage exchanged glances with Victor, who shrugged. "It's like we said. We're bringing these to Nevy."
"You know what I mean," Zenith growled.
"Are you still going on about this?" Mirage rolled his eyes. "Don't you ever get bored?"
"You may have fooled everyone else, but you won't fool me. I know you have an ulterior motive. No matter what it may be, I will not allow you to harm my crew."
With each word, his voice rose higher. It sounded terrible, strained and quivering, but he couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop. Deep in the core of his being, this felt right.
As a knight of Miria, he battled the demons of the Infernal Legion. He did not make peace with them.
"We're not harming anyone. In fact, the only person who's going to get harmed is me, when Nevy complains my ears off about being late," Mirage sneered. "Unless you're offering to take this to her yourself."
He shoved the basket in Zenith's face. Mindlessly, Zenith pushed it aside. Mirage stumbled and the lid fell off the basket, revealing the coils of rope stacked inside.
"What the hell?" Mirage yelped. "Rude much?"
Victor moved toward him, nudging the basket with his shoulder to prop it outright. When he looked at Zenith, his gaze was stern. "Don't you think you're being kind of petty?"
Heat seared in Zenith's face. He took another step forward, only for Mirage to bark out a laugh.
"Oh, I see what this is all about. You're still upset we saved Theo and you didn't, aren't you? A knight's pride is such a fragile little thing."
"You – " Zenith lunged, only for Victor to shove in front of Mirage. He was still glaring, but it held no hate – indeed, he almost seemed disappointed.
"I thought you were above that kind of thing."
His voice was quiet, almost emotionless. But it didn't matter. The words struck Zenith like knives to the core, and he – he just couldn't take any more of it. These two mocking him, condescending him, rubbing his failure in his face.
Everything that had been building up inside, churning within the darkest parts of his being, spilled to the surface and boiled over. Not just having to work with these two. Not just his inability to save Theo. But his ignominious defeat at Hellebore's hands. His liege's lies. And the sight of Theo and Victor on the deck together, standing so close....
The rage pounded in his ears like the heartbeat he did not possess. Letting it take over, he drew his fist back and punched Victor in the face.